


Don't ever leave...

by Lucelynn



Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-04
Updated: 2014-05-04
Packaged: 2018-01-21 20:08:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,507
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1562459
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lucelynn/pseuds/Lucelynn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>While Jaime is at war, fifteen-year-old Cersei waits, not knowing which day could be his last...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Don't ever leave...

It was one of those nights again. One of the nights she lay awake in her big bed, listening to the sound of pouring rain, afraid to close her eyes, afraid of what she might see, afraid of all the monsters that could get to her when she wasn't looking, filling her head with images of what she feared most in the world. Every time she closed her eyes, the shadows were upon her and no matter how hard she tried, she could see _him_. _Him,_ there, lying in a pool of his own blood as all the other men around him, all of whom she knew but couldn't care less about. He was clutching his sword made of pure Valyrian steel that he swore would never let him down, but his other hand was searching for something in front of him, something that wasn't to be seen by others. His breaths were heavier every second, his life slowly fading away from him. Green eyes, any other time with sparks of joy were now full of fear, his body trembling, while blood poured out of his veins. He wasn't even trying to stop it anymore, he knew he didn't have a chance. He looked up at the sky, searching for the sun, thinking the last thought he would ever have. The thought of her. And so, with her name on his lips, the fell lifeless on the ground, his eyes turning blank, his soul leaving them forever, leaving _her_ forever.

That was when she'd wake up, screaming, tears falling down her cheeks like waterfalls.

 _He wouldn't leave me,_ she'd tell herself. _He promised._

But what were words now to her? What could they help him? Words couldn't give back life to anyone, nor could they save him while it was fading away from him. Once upon a time they helped, yes, then, when they were standing together on a balcony, both crying because he was to go away, away from her once again. That was when he told her everything, made promises he knew he couldn't keep. And although even then she knew it wasn't the whole truth, it made her feel better, because the idea of it was absolutely perfect and oh, how hard she wanted to believe it.

But now he wasn't there to tell her lies anymore. He left her alone with them, making every second of her life miserable, making her cry herself to sleep.

She hasn't slept for days and nothing could help. There was the milk of the poppy – Maester thought she had problems of other kind – but she refused, because nobody knew what was really bothering her. Nobody _could_ know, and so every night she was left alone with her tears, lying in her bed, sobbing into a soaked pillow.

He'd always said she worries too much, but was there any way she could not worry? Images were flying through her head, offering her all possible scenarios of Jaime's death, each worse than the one before, and in every single one his last whisper was her name, his last thoughts was of her.

 

Rain was even louder than yesterday now. Cersei could barely hear herself breathing, not alone others talking on the corridor in front of her room. She buried her face in the pillow, trying to mute the sounds around her, even though she realized what needed muting were her thoughts, the constant bloodbath in her head that kept happening over and over again. She was sick of it, sick of every second of her life.

He said he'd be okay, said he'd return, he _promised_ , yes, he did, but no dead man can keep his promises. Jaime knew that, as well as he knew that every moment could be his last. And he feared it, at least she hoped he did. She hoped he wouldn't risk his life for the sake of realm, she hoped he wouldn't be that selfish to do it.

 _Rather come back to me as a coward than not come back at all,_ she told him once and he nodded, promised her even, but they both knew he wouldn't do it. His pride, as every Lannisters pride, meant more than anything, meant even more than love.

First she thought it would be a mere week, maybe even less. When he held her in his arms the night before, saying his goodbye, she was positive she would have him back in a few days. But days went on and on and there was no sign of him. When she asked her father the first time, two weeks after her brother's walked out of the city gate in his golden armor, his answer was plain.

“It's the war, my child,“he said, without even glancing over the book he was reading to look at his fifteen-year-old daughter . “And war leads to complications.“

Cersei found herself crying in the yard that afternoon with a horrible feeling in her stomach. Maybe she saw the last of him that day, she thought. Maybe they were never meant to see each other, never again, and maybe one of these days were the days he would fall with all her hopes for their common future. Her sobs were that heartbreaking that even the Septa that was just walking by had to look what's the matter. Upon seeing her, she raced toward Cersei and sat next to her, opening up her huge arms to embrace her. Cersei didn't need embracing, though, she didn't need the touch of anyone that wasn't him, him whom she might not ever see again. So she pushed her away, turning around so no one would see the tears of sorrow that were now filling her eyes.

“He isn't coming home, is he?“Cersei asked her.

“Why wouldn't he be coming home, child?“ She was trying to soothe her, Cersei knew that. But, once again, she remember that words are no guarantee.

“Father said so,“she sobbed. “Said the war leads to complications.“ The Septa sighed, but it wasn't a sad sigh. It was a sigh of pity.

“Your father doesn't know what is happening over there,“ she said after a while. A spark of doubt flashed in Cersei's eyes, but it was gone as soon as it came. There was a moment of silence between them, while Cersei played with her golden curls, swirling them around her finger. Suddenly she turned to Septa.

“It's true though, isn't it?“ she said. “He will die.“ The Septa smiled a sad smile.

“Everyone will die sooner or later,“ she said wisely.

“But he will die now.“ Cersei's stubborn expression was nothing to be argued with. She felt like she was about to explode into million pieces, erupt like a volcano, destroying everything around her. Oh how she hated them, how she hated all of them. Her father, the septa, the queen, the king, the war that was about to destroy all of her.

“Only gods know that, my dear,“ the Septa said, patting her lightly on her hands. Cersei flinched and moved back, staring at her with a look full of hatred. The old woman in front of her sighed and looked up at the sky. “We can only pray.“

And so she prayed. Every day she walked into the church, kneeling down in front of the cross, holding her hands up in a prayer. She didn't know the meaning of the prayers until now. She used to go there just because she was told to, talk to the gods because everyone else did, but now it was something else. Now she knelt in a hope to see her brother once again, to feel his touch, scent his smell, put her head on his shoulder and feel him bury his into her golden hair.

Every time she looked in the mirror, something died inside her. Seeing herself reminded her too much of Jaime, _her perfect reflection_ , as others used to say. She wanted so hard to forget him for a while, but a piece of him was still with her no matter how hard she tried to get rid of it. It was like he always used to say – they were born together. They shared a womb. They belonged in this world together.

And she would never get rid of him, nor would he get rid of her. On days like these, it was a burden. Thinking of him made her sick and no matter how much time passed since he was away, it only got worse. She had stopped asking her father about the state of their army, knowing he would only look suspiciously at her and say _Why do you ask, my dear?_ The excuse of sisterly love was corny and outworn and she couldn't come up with anything else. For a while she would visit the men of the city watch, asking them, but none of them knew anything and even if they did, they must have been told to not tell anyone because they always eyed her suspiciously with a look of everything but trust.

She did everything she could to find out more about her brother, until rumor had it that there was something more between them. The local gossip was that the highborn twins of Casterly Rock had a terrible secret. When she heard for the first time about their relationship from someone other than her brother, she knew she had to stop or all of her pride would be ruined.

So she stopped and waited, and with every sunset her hopes were smaller, while her grief only grew.

It was three moons later that she had taken the milk of the poppy from Maester, while secretly following him into the kitchens to see where he stores it. The next day she would steal enough of it to make her sleep lightly for at least two weeks, in hopes the agony would be bearable.

Now she took it from under her pillow again, pressing the bottle to her mouth when suddenly, she heard a light knocking against her door. Panicked, Cersei turned around, putting the bottle where it came from and in a hope nobody would see it, she sat on her bed.

“Yes?“ she asked worried. It was past midnight, she knew, and nobody was to trouble her at this time of night under any circumstances. There was only one thing that it could have been. News of her brother.

The response was another light knock. She needed not to be commanded now. Cersei jumped of her bed and hurried towards the door, her bare feet scurrying the tiles. Suddenly, in her white nightgown and unbrushed hair, she felt like a child again, so innocent and afraid and vulnerable.

Cersei tiptoed over to the door and pulled the handle, a streak of light passing through the gap she's just made. She wanted to look with her eye, but could see nothing in the dim light of candles that were lighting the corridor. That was when somebody pushed the door inside, making her jump away as he came striding in. She couldn't believe her eyes. Was it really... No, it couldn't be... Was it really...

“Jaime?!“ she asked, astonished, and before she could realize it, she was in his arms, hugging him as if she'd never hugged him before, clutching on to him, breathing in the smell that he'd brought with him.

It was her brother, she knew at the moment, but it couldn't have been real. He couldn't have been there, she told herself, for he was on the battlefield, fighting for something that never really mattered to any of them as long as they were together and happy.

“Shh,“ he whispered. Oh yes, it really was him. His voice made her fill with such heat that she would now scream of happiness, because this couldn't have been happening. And yet there he was, embracing her waste with those rough hands of his that she missed as much as she missed all of him. She leaned on to kiss him, but he pushed her away. She took a step back with a questioning look.

“Jaime, I...“ she started, but he only put his finger on his lips. He turned around and, after taking a quick look at the corridor, closed the door after him, leaving only him and her in an absolute darkness.

“Nobody can know I'm here,“ he whispered softly, walking over to her. There were so many questions she had on her mind, but she wouldn't ask, not wanting to spoil the moment. Not there, not then. They'll have time for questions later. Now it was only him and her and her and him and...

“I missed you so much,“ she said, her eyes full of sparks of joy. After three months, she finally could feel happiness, finally, she felt full.  
“As I did, you,“ the smile on his lips was true. He leaned on to kiss her and none of them protested, uniting their lips in a passionate kiss full of true love, because what love was truer than theirs? Nobody, not even the gods could tear them apart now, Cersei'd thought, as he lay down with her into the bed, hugging her around the waste, not having enough of her although she was right there, right next to him. Oh how he'd missed her. And oh, how she'd missed him...

“What took you so long?“ She was crying, but those were the tears of joy.

“I am sorry, Cersei,“ he kissed her on her forehead gently. Their voices were only whispers now. But not because they were afraid of somebody walking on to them, oh, no, that fright was long gone. It was because of the atmosphere they didn't want to ruin, the atmosphere of them reuniting, in hope of being reunited forever.

“Don't ever do this to me,“ she sobbed. “I just... Oh, god, Jaime, I love you...“

“I love you too.“ There was no sorrow in his voice, though, and the tone of his voice was unfamiliar to her, as if somebody else was saying those words.

“Promise me,“ she clutched onto him harder than ever now, pulling herself as close as she could. “Promise me you'll never do this again.“

“I promise, Cersei,“ he whispered, and they were kissing once again, she finally calm, satisfied, in a belief that it would only be like this from now on, because she already suffered enough and wasn't going to let him go, not now, not tomorrow, not ever, because he was hers and she was his and that was how it was supposed to be.

That night they made love, whispering sweet words into each others ears, lying under the blankets, naked, and nothing could make it more perfect. And nothing could ruin it, Cersei thought, although Jaime knew better.

And that's why he didn't tell her that as soon as the sun rises, he has to go to war again, now without the guarantee of his return.

 


End file.
